Saturday, August 29

...this line popped up in my mind when I gave notice to quit my job just yesterday.At 6:30 AM I roll in with a beat up Ford pick-up truck,she rolls out whenever she wants in her Mercedes Benz.Twelve hours later I leave.That was my day.

She cares little what I did - or did not do that day.She is all about protocol, procedure, inherited traditionsBeyond her written memos all stays blankCreativity is doomed to recipes of frozen foodsDid you follow each step by step? Now see, you did good, yes you did!

I gave notice to leave, until they can findan other one who can suck the sagging tits of mercyand drool upon lost droplets of grayish milk__________________________________________________________________________

of course the above is the "dramatic" version; the people in question are actually very fine people - just couldn't stand the vibes anymore from the only four (no man) running the place, their mental state - or should I say instability - have a range from bi-polar manic depressive to borderline Alzheimer's . If the "caretakers" are such, it makes it less enjoyable to take care of the actual "tenants" who are shizophrenic and live on heavy drugs and love alone.I will find a new job now.

... was cut off the internet for days. Need not to explain what that means. Said goodbye to fair friends today. Drove home by a swamp and then took a picture of my painting, and the one that is to come. That's all.

Wednesday, August 19

Why do so many people cut out their appendixes in the western world, as this fair woman in the photograph did?Why not sweat through a fever and keep it?Blows my mind.All auxiliary items cut for the benefit of pain reduction.A typical "western" behavior. Cut out the evil culprit, eradicate the symptoms, reduce pain with drugs. Who needs an appendix when the road without it shines gloriously.But a thing to remember is, that an appendix comes in handy in times of need.Sure, we are not built like cows or sheep, though we act like them at times. We don't need an appendix to double-digest lettuce and grass. We simply eat the cows an sheep. Bloody carnivores we are. But in the back of my mind I still remember - appendixes are useful for something, otherwise God would have not created them in the first place. To just cut them out because you feel pain is a travesty to me.We are such whiners.

This blog has no consistency. It rambles on about this and that.I wish I was a heroic and a passionate fan of some kind of sports, a deliberate specialist on a pinned down issue, a professional with attitude. Then I could talk to you about specific things, follow the calling of the one and only theme of choice. Since this is not so, my steps continue to fumble with the accuracy of a "renaissance-man", someone who is interested in too many things at any given time. It's a curse really. All people who are passionate about only one ore two things have it much easier in life. Devotion becomes focused. They follow their their sports-team, collect stamps or other things, are addicted to their fitness workout program, watch their favorite show on TV, are ambitious and happy with their jobs ... and so on. I am jealous of people who know exactly the one thing in life they wish to foster. It seems so easy, you just lock-in, end of story; whereas we renaissance-people ramble from one thing to an other.One of my brothers lamented about the same issue the other day. He is passionate about music and makes his living that way. But he plays more than just one instrument. Fair enough - he is also interested in splitting firewood, gourmet cooking, philosophy, politics, yeah and sex, good movies, sports, playing pool while having a beer, renovating houses etc. His ambition to become the next Pablo Casals ceased, when he realized that life for him is like a stain-glass window, many facets and multiple colors. He also carries the curse of a "renaissance-man".Life would be so much easier being a butterfly. You live a couple of days, and towards the end of your life-span you rise up to the stratosphere and disintegrate into multiple particles of colored dust.Humans only have the choice to advance one step at a time, and sometimes it feels like the journey takes forever, lead on the soles of your shoes... not diamonds, as others wish to think.

Friday, August 14

Competition, the survival of the fittest, the Darwinian doctrine of bullshit is everywhere.Except in my garden, there I nurture other aspects.The sunflower poses for my pole-beans and doesn't mind to help out, blooms and shines anyway. The beans I do harvest, the sunflower-seeds I leave for the birds. Maybe it is not correct to say that fruit and seeds are in competition, perhaps they merely supplement each other.

In human terms one could observe this on many levels. You plant a seed in a growing individual which later on might bloom and finally bear fruit in years to come (teaching).The millions of seeds from the sperm of a male specimen are on a mission to find that one "fertile fruit" that will enable new life (reproduction). Co-existence is the key in nature, not survival of the fittest. The latter is just a bi-product of materialistic thinking. But we do have competition.Love - what is love? An expression of co-existence beyond the thresh-hold of egotism, again defying the imposed laws of Darwinism.Sex is a bit closer to Darwinism: Fun for the one who finds the most compatible prey. A drag for the one who downgrades due to limitations of any kind. So again, a certain kind of competition.

I don't preach peace, peace is an artificial state of mind (concept) fostered by a frightened human condition. Co-existence should replace the idiom "peace". We don't' need to all love each other in this competing world. If we manage instead to just get along though and learn not to trample on each others pathways by intent, then the roads of our journey will be bordered by sunflowers, smiling in bright yellow.That's almost perfectly peaceful!

Tuesday, August 11

I am stuck,I miss island life so muchI can't bear not to be surroundedby the ocean - oh fuckthat it must be such,I'm grounded.

So I paintthe missing piececolors scattered,but no stroke flattersmy fancy at allthere is no wayto replacethe real thing withpigments on a flat face

At least I have a fine pool at my work-site, and I can plunge in whenever needed. Not everybody can share such luxury. But it is not the ocean, that's for sure.

So yeah, I paint to create the inner illusion that I am there, that I can smell and feel the salty breeze. This is my placebo for the real thing. Carving wood or chipping stones has to be put on hold - for now...

OK, so this is the stuff I do in my days off.And now you know, and now you know also that I am a sick puppy catching up with life, limping down the alley called 'Atlantic Avenue' in search for the shores and the endless expanding horizons of a real ocean.One day I will be free to call it "mine". And trust me, it will happen. I say this with confidence, because only artists are visionaries. The scientists (limp, LOL) scramble to catch up for every step done ahead by persons with creative intuition.Scientists define boundaries, artists break them.Scientists analyze what is, artists depict what can become. Scientists content themselves with mostly dead matter, artists observe the living world.Scientist define chlorine as a deadly substance for living organisms when assimilated in certain quantities, artists just jump into the pool head on, no matter what.I have a pool at my job-site.But it will never replace the ocean.

Tuesday, August 4

What amazes me is, that in the early seventies, sound was still generated by genius and skill, where-else often nowadays sampling and technology gadgets replace the human condition.

The machine took over and talents are sparse.

Yeah, there are fine troubadours today, the folky and sometimes punky radicals; they make fine sounds, and sometimes they are even entertaining. But most of mainstream pop, rock, hip-hop, grunge, techno and what have you not, seem to fade compared to the efforts of earlier bands. There is no breaking grounds in the commercial sound production these days.

... unless you find me some good examples I will stay convinced, that within the genre of popular music, there is mostly rehash of the old and no new ground braking explorations.